We have seen that among the Nestorians it was counted a disgrace for a female to learn to read; and even now, in the districts remote from missionary influence, a woman who reads, and especially one who writes, is an object of public odium, if not of persecution. How, then, could the Nestorians be induced to send their daughters to schools? What overcame this strong national prejudice? These questions open a delightful chapter in divine providence, showing how wonderfully God adapts means to ends, even on opposite sides of the globe.
A Christian gentleman in the State of New York, on the death of his wife's sister, adopted into his own family her infant child. She was trained to the exercise of a practical Christian benevolence, and her superior mind was improved by an education remarkably thorough. In the classics and mathematics she exhibited uncommon aptitude, and made unusual attainments; so that it was truly said of her, "Perhaps no female missionary ever left our country with a mind so well disciplined as Mrs. Judith S. Grant." She sailed for Persia, July 11, 1835; and there she displayed rare ability in acquiring the language of the people. The Turkish she soon spoke familiarly. In a short time she read the ancient Syriac, and acquired the spoken language with at least equal facility. Previous even to these acquisitions, she taught Mar Yohanan and others English; and as they noticed the ease with which she turned to her Greek Testament, whenever ours seemed to differ from the ancient Syriac, they regarded her with feelings in which it would be hard to say whether wonder, love, or reverence was the strongest. Some might have cried out, when her fine intellect and rare acquirements were devoted to the missionary work, "Why is this waste of the ointment made?" But had her friends searched the round world for a sphere of greatest usefulness, they could not have selected one where her rare gifts would have accomplished so much; and when such a woman manifested deep solicitude for the education of her sex, ancient prejudice fell before her. She taught her own domestics to read. She sedulously cultivated the acquaintance of both Christian and Mohammedan women; nor did she rest till she had opened a school for girls in what is now Mr. Coan's barn. Such was her zeal, that when her health would not allow her to go there, she taught the pupils in her own apartment. She commenced with only four scholars, but at the same time prepared the maps for Parley's Geography in modern Syriac, and the old map of Oroomiah, so familiar to the readers of the Missionary Herald, was her handiwork. Nor was her usefulness confined to her school room. Hers was the privilege of creating such a public sentiment in favor of the education of woman, that her successors have found the gates wide open before them, and often wondered at the extent and permanence of the influence she acquired. There is no one topic of which Miss Fiske has spoken to the writer so frequently, and with such enthusiasm, as the great work that Mrs. Grant accomplished for woman in Persia, during her short missionary life. She was the laborious and self-denying pioneer in female education, and every year thus far has brought to light new evidence of her extensive usefulness. It was no empty compliment, when the venerable Mar Elias said, "We will bury her in our church, where none but very holy men are laid. As she has done so much for us, we want the privilege of digging her grave with our own hands."
Miss Fiske writes, shortly after her arrival, "The first Syriac word I learned was 'daughter;' and as I can now use the verb 'to give,' I often ask parents to give me their daughters. Some think that I cannot secure boarding scholars, but Mrs. Grant got day scholars; and when I hear men, women, and children say, 'How she loved us!' I want to love them too. I mean to devote at least five years to the work of trying to gather girls into a boarding school, as Mrs. Grant desired to do. She has gone to her rest. I wonder that I am allowed to take her place." And again: "I am usually in school till three P.M., and then I go out among the poor mothers till tea time. They often say to me, 'Mrs. Grant did just as you do.' Her short life was a precious offering. I feel each day more and more that I have entered into the labors of a faithful servant of Christ."
Among the pupils of Mrs. Grant was Selby, of Oroomiah, who was hopefully converted while teaching some day scholars connected with the Seminary, in 1845. Raheel, (Rachel,) the wife of Siyad, the tailor mentioned in the Memoir of Mr. Stoddard, was another. So were Sanum, the wife of Joseph; Meressa, the wife of Yakob; and Sarah, the daughter of Priest Abraham, and wife of Oshana, of whom we shall hear more hereafter.
After the death of Mrs. Grant, January 14, 1839, the school was continued under the charge of Mr. Holladay, who employed native teachers to assist him, the ladies of the mission cooperating as they could. It then passed into the hands of Dr. Wright, who had the care of it when Miss Fiske arrived in Oroomiah, June 14, 1843. During all this time it was only a day school, and contact with vice in the homes of the pupils greatly hindered its usefulness. It was for this reason that Miss Fiske was exceedingly anxious to make it a boarding school, so as to retain the pupils continuously under good influences. But would they be allowed to spend the night on the mission premises? This was doubted by many, and all had their fears; yet in August an appropriation was made for the support of six boarding pupils, who were to be entirely under the control of the mission for three years. Some said they could not be obtained for even one year, and not one of them would remain to complete the three. Even Priest Abraham said, "I cannot bear the reproach of having my daughter live with you." At that time, scarcely a girl twelve years old could be found who was not betrothed; and years were devoted to the preparation of a coarse kind of embroidery, a certain amount of which must be ready for the wedding.
One day in August, Mar Yohanan said to Miss Fiske, "You get ready, and I find girls." She devoted that month and the next to preparation for her expected charge. But the day came for opening the school, and not one pupil had been obtained. The teacher was feeling somewhat anxious, when, from her window in the second story, she saw Mar Yohanan crossing the court, with a girl in either hand. One of them was his own niece, Selby, of Gavalan, seven years of age; the other, Hanee, of Geog Tapa, about three years older. They were not very inviting in outward appearance; but it did not take Miss Fiske long to reach the door, where the bishop met her, and placing their little hands in hers, said, in his broken English, "They be your daughters; no man take them from your hand." She wrote to a friend an account of her success, adding, "I shall be glad to give them to the Lord Jesus, and love to look on them as the beginning of my dear school." These two pupils were supported by ladies in Maiden, Massachusetts, and the number soon increased to six; but fifteen days after, two of them, finding the gate open, suddenly left for home. Their teacher did not think it advisable to follow them; nor did she see them again till, ten years after, an invitation for a reunion of all her scholars brought two whom she did not recognize. She said, "Perhaps you were here under Mrs. Grant?" "No, we were your own scholars for fifteen days, and we are very sorry we ran away." They are now both useful Christians, and the places they left in 1843 were speedily filled by others.
The care of the school was much more exhausting than its instruction. When the teacher went out, and when she came in, she must take her pupils with her, for she dared not leave them to themselves. Indeed, so strong were the feelings of their friends, that they allowed them to remain only on condition that they should lodge with or near their teacher, and never go out except in her company. A native teacher rendered such help as he could, needing much teaching himself; and everything combined to make the principal feel that hers was to be a work of faith and prayer. As the first of January approached, she thought how sweet it would be to be remembered by dear friends at Mount Holyoke; and when it came, she wrote to Miss Whitman, "In looking over Miss Lyon's suggestions for the observance of the day, last year, I cannot tell you how I felt as I read the words, 'Perhaps next new year's day will find some of you on a foreign shore. If so, we pledge you a remembrance within these consecrated walls.' I thought not then that privilege would be mine; but since it is, I count your prayers the greatest favor you can confer."
At Oroomiah, the missionaries met together for prayer at one o'clock, and after that Dr. Perkins and Mr. Holladay preached to the assembled Seminaries, while the ladies of the mission met separately for prayer; then united intercession again closed the day. And they needed to wait on God, for many difficulties combined to prevent success.
One was the poverty of the people. To say merely that they were poor gives no true idea of their situation to an American reader. They were extremely poor, and grinding oppression still keeps them so. In 1837, Mr. Stocking found very few pupils in the schools wearing shoes, even in the snow of midwinter; and one sprightly lad in Sabbath school had nothing on but a coarse cotton shirt, reaching down to his knees, and a skull cap, though the missionary required all his winter clothes, besides a fire, to keep him comfortable.
Another evil growing out of their poverty was, that the missionairies, in order to give the first impulse to education, resorted to some measures which, after an interest was awakened, had to be laid aside in order to increase it. For example, poor parents could not be persuaded to earn bread for their children while they sent them to school; hence, to get scholars at first, the mission furnished their daily bread; and this having been done for the boys, had to be done for the girls also. So, in the winter of 1843-44, twenty-five cents a week was paid to the day scholars, the others having their board instead. But the current having once commenced to flow in the new channel, such inducements became more a hinderance than a help, and, in the spring of 1844, Miss Fiske told her scholars that no more money would be paid for their bread; and though some of the mission feared it would be necessary to resume the practice, instead of that it was soon dropped in the other Seminary also.
But the special difficulty growing out of the condition of woman in a Mohammedan country demands our notice. Some may suppose that because Miss Fiske and Miss Rice have succeeded so well, an unmarried lady from this country has nothing to do but to go there and work like any one else. This is not true; such a one cannot live by herself: her home must be in some missionary family. She cannot go out alone, either inside or outside of the city. In many things she needs to be shielded from annoyances here unknown. And God provided all that the teachers of the Seminary needed of such help; first, in the kind family of Mr. Stocking, and, after his death, in the pleasant household of Mr. Breath. Indeed, not one of all the missionary circle ever stood in need of such a hint as Paul gave the church at Rome concerning the deaconess of Cenchrea. As Miss Fiske says, playfully, "Whenever we went with them to visit pupils at a distance, they always made us believe that it was a great privilege to take us along;" and every lady who goes out, in a similar way, to labor in the missionary field, will find just such Christian kindness indispensable to her comfort and usefulness. In such a sphere of action, a lady's dependence is her independence.
Another difficulty was the want of books. Such a thing as a school book had been unknown among the Nestorians. The only ones to be had in 1843 were the Bible in ancient Syriac,—a language unintelligible to the common people,—and the Gospel of John, with a few chapters of Genesis, in the spoken language, besides a few tracts. Later came the Gospel of Matthew, and, after that, the four Gospels. Mr. Stocking prepared a Spelling Book of fifty-four pages, 8vo, a Mental Arithmetic of twenty-four pages, and afterwards a larger Arithmetic. Mr. Coan, a Scripture Spelling Book of one hundred and sixty pages, 8vo. Mr. Stoddard issued a very full and complete Arithmetic for the older scholars in 1856, but his System of Theology did not appear till after his decease, in 1857. Dr. Wright was the author of a Geography of three hundred and two pages, printed in 1849. Mr. Cochran's Scripture Geography appeared in 1856, and Barth's Church History was published the same year. But the book studied more than all others, and most efficient in enlightening and elevating the people, was the Bible, of which the New Testament appeared in 1846, and the Old in 1852. As many as three hours a day were devoted to that; and no recollections of missionary education in Persia are so pleasant as those of the Bible lessons. The pupils have pleasant memorials of some of them in the form of Bible maps, drawn by themselves, which now form a conspicuous and appropriate ornament of their homes.
It may seem to some as though so much study of the Bible would make the pupils weary of its sacred pages; but precisely the contrary was true. When the New Testament, shortly after it was printed, was offered to those who, during recreation hours, would commit to memory the Scripture Catechism, containing more than one thousand texts, some learned it in three weeks, and others in a longer time; and their joy in receiving the reward could hardly be expressed. It was near the close of the term, and some who had not quite finished when vacation began remained to complete the task; for they said they could not go home unless they carried with them their Testament; and the diligent use they made of it afterwards showed that their desire was more than mere covetousness. Even eighteen months after, writing to a friend in America, they say, "Now we have each of us this blessed book, this priceless blessing; would that in it we might all find salvation for our souls. This book is from the unspeakable mercy of God; nor can we ever repay our dear friends for it." I cannot forbear quoting here the closing sentence of the letter—"Dear friend, the gentle love of the Saviour be with you. AMEN."
When Mar Yohanan returned to Persia after his visit to the United States, in 1843, Prince Malik Kassim Meerza, who could speak a little English, asked him, "What are the wonders of America?" He replied, "The blind they do see, the deaf they do hear, and the women they do read; they be not beasts." Having visited Mount Holyoke Seminary, he often said, "Of all colleges in America, Mount Holy Oke be the best; and when I see such a school here, I die;" meaning that then he would be ready to die. When he brought her first boarding scholars to Miss Fiske, he said, "Now you begin Mount Holy Oke in Persia."
As she sought to reproduce one of our female seminaries, as far as was possible in such different circumstances, it seems fitting to enter somewhat into the minutiae of its arrangements.
Resemblance to similar institutions at home is not as yet to be sought in the standard of scholarship, though that is rapidly advancing. In an unevangelized community, the people move on a lower level. Not only social condition, but morality and education, feel the want of the elevating influence of the gospel. A seminary that commences operations by teaching the alphabet must advance far, and climb high, before its graduates will stand on a level with those whose pupils were familiar with elementary algebra when they entered; yet its course of study may be the best to secure the usefulness of its members in their own community. If ragged village girls, untutored and uncombed, studying aloud in school hours, and at recess leaping over the benches like wild goats, now study diligently and in silence, move gently, and are respectful to their teachers and kind to each other, a thorough foundation has been laid; and if, in addition to that, the literary attainments of the lower classes to-day exceed those of the pupils who first left the school, the superstructure rises at once beautifully and securely.
Leaving out the Bible,—which has been already spoken of,—to the original reading, writing, singing, and composition; have been added by degrees, grammar, geography, arithmetic, and theology; with oral instruction in physiology, chemistry, natural philosophy, and astronomy.
But we should neither understand the attainments of the pupils, nor the source of their marked ability as writers, did we not notice that, as a reward for good conduct during the day, their teacher was accustomed to translate orally to them, at its close, at first simple stories, and then such volumes as Paradise Lost, The Course of Time, and Edwards's History of Redemption. To these were added such practical works as Pike's Persuasives to Early Piety, Pastor's Sketches, and Christ a Friend; and the pupils understood books a great deal better in the free translations thus given, than in the more exact renderings issued from the press. Baxter's Saints' Rest, poured thus hot and glowing into a Syriac mould, was more effective, at least for the time, than the same after it had cooled and been laboriously filed into fidelity to the original.
The Seminary was unlike similar schools at home in the matter of expense. In 1853, the cost for each pupil was only about eighteen dollars for the year, including rent, board, fuel, lights, and clothing in part; and as this was paid by the American Board, education to the people was without money and without price. We have already alluded to the efforts of the teachers to train up the people to assume this expense themselves.
Let us now trace the progress made in getting the pupils away from the evil influences of their Persian homes. In 1843, besides her six boarding pupils, Miss Fiske had a few day scholars; next year she had still fewer; and the year after that, they were dropped entirely. Many wished to send their daughters in this way; but she was decided in her refusal to receive them, because thus only could the highest good of the pupils be secured. At first, so great was her dread of home influences, that she sought to retain them even in vacation; but she soon saw that their health and usefulness, their sympathy with the people, and the confidence of the people in them, required them to spend a part of the year at home. This also gave their teachers a good opportunity to become acquainted with their friends and neighbors, and a door was opened for many delightful meetings with women, in which the pupils rendered much assistance. It also secured the influence of the parents in favor of what was for the good of their daughters, and made them interested in the school. During Miss Fiske's entire residence in Persia, fathers rarely disregarded her wishes concerning their daughters in her school.
The only time that the teachers were ever reviled by a Nestorian father was in the case of a village priest. He came one day to the Seminary to see his daughter, and because she did not appear at once,—she was engaged at the moment,—he cursed and swore, in a great passion, and when she did come, carried her home. No notice was taken of it, and no effort made to get her back; but three years after, the first indications of his interest in religion were deep contrition for his conduct on that occasion, and a letter full of grief for such treatment of those who had come so far to tell him and his of Jesus. He at once sent his daughter back, and three weeks after she too came to the Saviour, and even begged, as a favor, to have the care of the rooms of the teachers her father had reviled. Since then, the priest has written no less than three letters, as he says, to be sure that so great wickedness was really pardoned, it seemed to him so unpardonable.
The circumstances of the Seminary required a domestic department. It was difficult, in Persia, to have girls only ten years old take charge of household affairs; yet a beginning was made; but how much labor of love and patience of hope it involved cannot be told to those who have not tried it. At first, their one hour of work each day was more of a hinderance than a help; but gradually, through watchfulness and much effort, they were brought to do the whole without the least interference with their regular duties in school. They were thus trained to wait upon themselves, and so one deeply rooted evil of Oriental life was corrected. This practice also relieved the school of the bad influence of domestics, while it prepared the pupils for lives of contented usefulness among a people so poor as the Nestorians. Besides, in this way they acquired habits of regularity and punctuality such as they never saw in their own homes.
But while these Western habits were inculcated, such of their own customs as were harmless were left untouched. They were carefully taught to do things in their own way, so as naturally and easily to fall into their proper place at home.
At first, in their daily reports, Miss Fiske dared not ask any question the answer to which she could not ascertain for herself. The earliest she ventured to put was, whether they had combed their hair that day. The pupils all stood up, and those who had attended to this duty were asked to sit down. The faithful ones were delighted to comply. The others, mortified and ashamed, remained standing; but if one of them tried to sit down, a glance of the eye detected her. This simple method laid a foundation for truthfulness and self-respect; and from this the teacher gradually advanced to other questions, as their moral sense became able to bear them, till, when they could answer five satisfactorily, such as, "Have you all your knitting needles?" "Were you at prayers?" "Were you late?"—things that could be ascertained at once,—they thought themselves wonderfully good, little dreaming how much the teacher did not dare to ask, lest she should lead them into temptation. After the first revival, she could ask about things that took place out of her sight; and now this exercise is conducted in the same way as in our best schools at home. There is very little communication now between them in the school room. In 1852, there were only five failures on this point for four months, and those by new scholars. Dr. Perkins wrote, that year, "The exact system in this school, and the order, studiousness, good conduct, and rapid improvement of the pupils, in both this and the other Seminary, are probably unsurpassed in any schools in America."
In reply to a request for the picture of a day in the Seminary, MissFiske writes, in 1862,—
"You ask for a day of my life in Persia. Come, then, to my home in 1854. You shall be waked by the noise of a hand-bell at early dawn: twenty minutes after, our girls are ready for their half hour of silent devotion. The bell for this usually finds them waiting for it, and the perfect quiet in the house is almost unbroken. At the close of it, another bell summons us to the school room for family devotion, where, besides reading the Scriptures and prayer, they unite in singing one of our sweet hymns.[1] In a few minutes after this, another bell calls us to breakfast, and, that finished, all attend to their morning work. Tables are cleared, rooms put in order, and preparations made for supper—the principal meal in Persia; then for an hour they study silently in their rooms. At a quarter before nine o'clock I enter the school room, while Miss Rice cares for things without. We open school with prayer, in which we carry to the Master more of our little cares and trials than in the early morning. My first lesson is in Daniel, with the older pupils, while two other classes go out to recite in another room. Yonan stays with me, for I want him to help and be helped in these Bible lessons. The class enjoy it exceedingly, and the forty minutes spent on it always seem too short. The other classes now come in, and all study or recite another forty minutes. After that, a short recess in the yard makes all fresh again. The older classes then study, while one of the younger ones has a Bible lesson with me on the life of Christ. Each time I go over it with them I find things which I wonder I had not perceived before. It is delightful to hear them express their own thoughts of our blessed Saviour. We trace his journeyings on maps prepared by the pupils, and they study the Scripture geography of each place. After this, one class recites ancient Syriac to Yonan, and another, in physiology, goes out to Miss Rice, leaving me to spend forty minutes with the older girls on compositions. At present the topic is, "The Christ of the Old Testament;" and I am thankful that I studied Edwards's History of Redemption under Miss Lyon. This done, fifteen minutes remain for a kind of general exercise, when we talk over many things; and then the noon recess of one and a half hours allows the girls to lunch, see friends, and recreate, till fifteen minutes before its close, when they have a prayer meeting by themselves. [Footnote 1: At first, only one hymn was printed on a separate sheet; then a little hymn book of five,—as many as Luther commenced with at the Reformation. Now the hymn book contains about two hundred hymns, and some of the pupils can repeat them all.]
"In the afternoon, Miss Rice takes charge of the school, and I have the time out. At present the first hour is given to writing; soon astronomy will take its place. Recitations in geography follow till recess, and after that singing or spelling. The last hour, I go in and hear a lesson in Hebrews. On this Epistle we have full notes prepared in Syriac, and we study it carefully, in connection with the Old Testament. Miss Rice also has a lesson in Judges, and then all come together for the daily reports, more as a family than a school. There is still an hour before supper for mutual calls, knitting, sewing, and family duties. After supper and work are over, and they have had a little time to themselves, come evening prayers. Then they have a short study hour in their rooms, followed by the half hour for private devotion, which closes the day.
"Of course, at another time, the studies might be somewhat different. The hours that Miss Rice and I are out of school we spend in seeing visitors, holding prayer meetings, going out among the women, and sometimes devote a whole day to a distant village."
Having thus looked in on a day of study, let us, through the same glass, take a view of the Lord's day. The letter is dated December, 1855.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have learned here that He who fed five thousand with the portion of five can feed the soul to the full with what I once counted only crumbs. May I give you one of the Master's sermons? A few Sabbaths ago, I went to Geog Tapa with Mr. Stoddard. It was afternoon, and I was seated on a mat in the middle of the earthen floor of the church. I had already attended Sabbath school and a prayer meeting with my pupils, and, weary, I longed for rest. It seemed as if I could not sit without support through the service. Then I remembered that after that came my meeting with the women readers of the village; and O, how desirable seemed rest! But God sent it in an unexpected way; for a woman came and seated herself directly behind me, so that I could lean on her, and invited me to do so. I declined; but she drew me back, saying, "If you love me, lean hard." Very refreshing was that support. And then came the Master's own voice, repeating the words, "If you loveme, lean hard;" and I leaned on him too, feeling that, through that poor woman, he had preached me a better sermon than I could have heard at home. I was rested long before the services were through; then I spent an hour with the women, and after sunset rode six miles to my own home. I wondered that I was not weary that night nor the next morning; and I have rested ever since on those sweet words, "If you love me, lean hard."
But I intended to tell you of our Sabbaths in school. Saturday is the girls' day for washing and mending, and we are busy all day long. Just before sunset, the bell calls us to the school room, and there we inquire if the last stitch is taken, and the rooms are all in order. If any thing is still undone, the half hour before supper sees it finished. After leaving the table, every thing is arranged for the morning, and then we have a quiet half hour in our rooms. After this, half the pupils come to Miss Rice, and half to me. Each has a prayer meeting, remembering the absent ones, also the Female Seminaries in Constantinople, South Hadley (Mass.), and Oxford (Ohio). All retire from these precious meetings to their "half hour," as they call it, and before nine o'clock all is quiet, unless it be the voice of some one still pleading with her God.
The first bell, Sabbath morning, is at half past five, when all rise and dress for the day. Morning prayers are at half past six; then comes breakfast, and, our few morning duties being done, the girls retire to study their Sabbath school lessons, and sometimes ask to meet together for prayer. At half past nine, we attend Syriac service in the chapel. The Sabbath school follows that, numbering now about two hundred pupils. About two thirds of our scholars are teachers in it, and it is a good preparation for teaching in their homes. Those who do not teach form a class. We then go home to lunch, flavored with pleasant remembrances and familiar explanations of the morning service. The afternoon service commences at two o'clock, and our Bible lessons an hour before supper, though some are called earlier, to help us teach the women who come in for instruction. At supper, all are allowed to ask Bible questions, and before leaving the table we have evening prayers. At seven o'clock, Miss Rice and I go to the English prayer meeting, while the pupils meet in six or seven family meetings, as they call them, the inmates of each room being by themselves, and the pious among them taking turns in conducting them. If any wish to come to us after this, we are glad to see them; and often this hour witnesses the submission of souls to God.
Besides these there is a weekly prayer meeting on Tuesday evening, a lecture on Friday afternoon, and on Wednesday, as well as Sabbath evening, the school meets in two divisions for prayer.
The following journal, kept during the revival, in 1860, by Esli, an assistant teacher, forms an appropriate continuation of this interior picture of the Seminary:—
"February 1st. To-day, a part of the girls wrote compositions on 'anger,' and a part on 'the gospel.'
"3d, Friday. John was here to-day writing to Mount Holyoke Seminary, and attended our noon prayer meeting. In the afternoon, Deacon Joseph of Degala preached from the words "King of kings and Lord of lords." In the evening, Mr. Coan sung with us, and we read the weekly report of our conduct.
"5th, Sabbath. In the forenoon, Dr. Wright preached from Acts ii. 37. He said that we must know what sin is; that we are sinners; and that we cannot save ourselves. In the afternoon, Priest Eshoo preached from Luke xv. 32. The evening prayer meetings were very pleasant.
"9th. A blessed morning. Some of the girls are thoughtful. This was seen in the quiet at table and the silence in the kitchen. The work was done both earlier and better than usual. During the study hour, the voice of prayer sounded very sweetly in every room. When the girls walked in the yard, it was very quiet, and so when they came in. Our noon prayer meeting was very pleasant; Miss Rice said a few words on the shortness of time. While Hanee prayed, some wept. When Miss Rice dismissed us, no one moved; all were bowed on their desks, weeping. She then gave opportunity for prayer, and while I prayed, all were in tears. The girls have kept all the rules well to-day. This evening, the communicants met with Miss Rice, and the rest with Martha. Miss Rice read about Jonah in the ship, and said a few words; after that, Raheel the teacher prayed. Then Hanee spoke a little of her own state, and asked us to pray for Raheel of Ardishai, who is thoughtful. I spoke, and asked them to pray for Hannah and Parangis, who are in my room.
"10th. The state of our school is the same. Mr. Cochran preached on the faithfulness of the Jews under Nehemiah, when they rebuilt Jerusalem. After meeting he told us that the members of the Male Seminary spent yesterday as a day of fasting and prayer, and many rose confessing their sins. One very wicked man, also from the village, asked them to pray for him. After work was done in the kitchen this evening, a little time remained, and the girls there asked to have a meeting. With gladness of heart I knelt and mingled my tears with theirs, as though I, too, were commencing the work. Afterwards Mr. Coan came and sung with us, and we read the accounts of the week."
Esli, the writer of the above, is the daughter of Yohanan, a pious man in Geog Tapa, who for a time was steward of the Seminary. She was one of the first fruits of the revival of 1856, and graduated after Miss Fiske's return to America. She has since been a most faithful assistant of Miss Rice, and is very much beloved by the pious Nestorians. But the following letter to Miss Fiske, from her own pen, dated April 1859, will form her best introduction to the reader:—
"When I recall your love to me, my heart is full. I remember the times when we knelt together before our Father in heaven, in godly anguish for priceless souls. Especially do I remember when God first came near to me, how you shared my sorrow by day and by night, and pointed me to Him who bled for me. After you brought me to Christ, you showed me the helps to a Christian life; that I must pray not only in my closet, but also in my heart, when at work or studying, that God would keep me. O that I had heeded your counsels more!
"This winter the Lord led me to see my cold state. For a time the Saviour's face was hidden; then it seemed to be midnight; but I looked above, and the darkness fled. I saw him standing with open arms, and quickly I threw myself into those arms. Tears of joy fell from my eyes, and by the grace of God I was enabled to go forward day by day. Secret prayer has since been very pleasant to me.
"We have had pleasant seasons of prayer in our school this winter, and we trust that some souls have been born again. I have the care of a circle of girls in the kitchen. They work well, and keep it clean. I think you know that such work is difficult, but if you were to come in you would find every thing in order. Every Wednesday we scour all the shelves and the doors.
"The girls have made the yard very pleasant; but one thing is wanting there: we miss you at the cool of the day, walking in it to see if any evil has grown up in your garden.
"I went to my village in vacation; the prayer meetings there were very pleasant, and I enjoyed much, praying with the women alone. Our seasons of family devotion also were delightful. In the morning we read the Acts in course; and as each read a verse, my father asked its meaning. When he went away to preach, I used to lead, and we then read the portion for the day, in the book called 'Green Pastures for the Lord's Flock.'
"In the school we have studied Ezra, in connection with Haggai andZechariah, and are now in Nehemiah. In the New Testament we are onPaul's third journey, and have nearly finished Scripture geography andtheology."
The Seminary keeps up a Christian intercourse with the institution at South Hadley, as the following letters will show; and the beautiful melodeon in the sitting room is a tuneful testimony to the liberality of Holyoke's daughters.
"Many salutations and much love from the school of Miss Fiske to you, our dear sisters of the school at Mount Holyoke. We rejoice that there is such a great institution full of holy words and the warm love of Christ: we hear that many of you have an inheritance above, and are daily looking forward to it. We want to tell you how glad we are that the Holy Spirit has come among you, and that God has turned so many to himself. Though we are great sinners, we rejoice exceedingly in the success of the work of God in every place; and we beg you to pray that the Holy Spirit may visit us also, and our people, and strike sharp arrows into flinty hearts, that they may melt like wax before the fire. Blessed be God, that though we had become the least of all nations, and adopted many customs worse than the heathen, and our holy books were carefully laid away and never used, yet he put love into the hearts of his servants, that they should come to this dark land. We are greatly obliged to you and to your people for so kindly sending us these missionaries. They have greatly multiplied our books, and, as we trust, brought many souls to Christ. Some of us, formerly, knew not who Christ was, or whether a Redeemer had died for us; but now he has gathered us together in this school of godly instruction; and some of us are awaking to our sins, and to the great love God has shown in sending his Son to die for us. We thank God very much that we know Jesus Christ, the only Saviour.
"Again, we want to thank you for sending Miss Fiske to teach us the way of life; we love her because she greatly loves us, and desires our salvation. Every day she takes much trouble that we may be the daughters of God. But her burdens are so great, that we fear she will not remain long with us, unless some one comes to help her. And now we have a petition to present: we hear that in many of you dwelleth the spirit of our Master, Jesus Christ; and that you are ready to leave home and friends, and go to distant lands, to gather the lost sheep of Christ. Dear sisters, our petition is, that you will send us a teacher.[1] We shall greatly rejoice if one comes, and will love her very much. We ask this, not because we do not love Miss Fiske. No! no! this is not in our hearts; but she is weak, and her work is more than she can do alone. We shall expect one to come, and pray God to bring her to us in safety. [Footnote 1: Miss Mary Susan Rice, already mentioned in these pages, went out this same year (1847), from the Seminary in South Hadley.]
"Please remember us in your closets and in your meetings, and ask your friends to pray for us and for our people. Farewell, beloved sisters."
The following extracts are from a letter written by them, in 1848, to Miss Susan L. Tolman, now Mrs. Cyrus T. Mills of the Sandwich Islands, and formerly of Ceylon:—
"Much love from the members of the Female Seminary of Oroomiah to you, our dear Miss Tolman. We are very glad to find one who loves us so much, and prays for us. Our delight in your letter was greater than we can express. Miss Fiske came in joyfully with it in her hand, and while she read, it seemed as if you were present, inviting and drawing us to Christ.
"Give our love to all in your favored school, and ask them to pray for us. We love all those dear ladies, because they have been so kind to us, and have been willing that Miss Fiske and Miss Rice should leave them, and come here for our sakes. Though they were dear to you, we think that now they have come to us, your joy in them is greater. We hope to hear of many of you carrying the leaves of life to the dark corners of the earth.
"Dear Miss Tolman, you said, 'You love Miss Fiske, you must also love Miss Rice.' Did you think that we would not love her? We love them both, not only for leaving their friends to come to us, but also because they are full of the love of our dear Redeemer.
"We have heard that you are going to India. We are glad, and love you more for it, because the love of Christ constrains you to this, and thus in spirit you come very near to our dear teachers. We entreat Almighty God to be with you, and bring you in safety to the place he appoints for you, that you may be a light among a dark people. We hope that when there you will not forget us, but write us about your work, and about the daughters of India, whether they love you much or not. Tell your friends not to sorrow for you, but to rejoice that they have a friend ready to go and teach those who know not Christ. The Saviour guide you in all your labors."
Those who aided Miss Lyon to carry out her large-hearted plans in New England, little dreamed that offshoots from the vine they planted would so soon be carried to the ends of the earth. Who does not admire that grace which, in this missionary age, raised up such a type of piety to be diffused over the globe? Doubtless it will undergo changes in Persia, as it has done already; but the devout student of Providence will watch its growth with interest, and its developments will not disappoint his hopes.
To the interior pictures of the school in the last chapter we add some vacation scenes, though chronologically in advance of other things yet to come.
[Illustration: Tents.]
Towards the close of July, 1851, Mr. Stocking and family, with Misses Fiske and Rice, and several native helpers, spent the vacation in Gawar. Mr. Coan accompanied them on his way to regions beyond. Wandering from place to place, like the patriarchs of old, they pitched their tents at first near the village of Memikan. A sketch of these tents is here presented. The women there were frequent visitors, and few went away without some idea of the truth as it is in Jesus. The pious natives were unwearied in labor, and sometimes woke the missionaries in the morning with prayer for the people round about them. On the Sabbath, there was preaching in as many as five different villages, and after morning service in Memikan, the women came to the tents to receive more particular instruction from their own sex. In the evening, a mother who had buried her son in February—then a very promising member of the Seminary at Seir[1]—brought her youngest daughter, about six years of age, saying, "We give her to you in the place of Guwergis. He has gone to a blessed place. You led him there. We thank you, and now intrust to you our little daughter." Eshoo, the father, spoke of his departed son with much feeling, but most sweet submission. He said to Miss Fiske, as the big tears glistened in the moonlight, "I shall not be here long. I shall soon rejoin him. My hope in Jesus grows stronger every day." The death of that dear son was not only a great spiritual blessing to him, but the mere mention of his name at once secured the attention of the villagers to any thing the missionaries had to say about his Saviour. [Footnote 1: Nestorian Biography, p. 127.]
On Monday, they left for a visit to the Alpine district of Ishtazin. Unable to take horses along those frightful paths, they rode on hardy mules. In a subsequent journey over the same road, the fastenings of Miss Fiske's saddle gave way, and she fell, but providentially without injury. Sometimes they climbed, or, more hazardous still, descended, a long, steep stairway of rock, or they were hid in the clouds that hung around the higher peaks of the mountain. Now the path led them under huge, detached rocks, that seemed asking leave to overwhelm them, and now under the solid cliffs, that suggested the more grateful idea of the shadow of a great rock in a weary land. Down in the valley were pleasant waterfalls, little fields rescued by much labor from the surrounding waste, choice fruits, and such a variety of flowers, that it seemed as if spring, summer, and autumn had combined to supply them. Then, in looking up, the eye rested on silver threads apparently hanging down from far-off summits, but really foaming streams dashing headlong down the rocks, yet so distant that no sound came to the ear from their roaring waters.
The party stopped at Ooreya, on one of its flat roofs, shaded by a magnificent walnut tree. The villagers brought mulberries, apples, and other fruits, till they could prepare something more substantial, and seemed to forget their fears of the patriarch in their zealous hospitality. After supper, all adjourned to the churchyard, and there, in the bright moonlight, a crowd of eager listeners heard of Christ, and redemption through his precious blood. The silence of night was broken only by the voice of the preacher, and the echoes of the surrounding cliffs seemed to repeat joyfully the unwonted sounds. Yonan preached from the words "Jesus went about all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, and preaching the gospel of the kingdom." He commenced by asking whether Christ was right in so doing. They replied, "Certainly he did right." "Yes," said the preacher, "and as he did, so must his followers do; and you must expect to see them in Ishtazin. When we cease to climb over these precipices to come to you, fear lest we have become Mussulmans, for Christians cannot but go from village to village to preach the gospel." The reader will see the force of such an appeal, when he remembers that Mar Shimon had forbidden these people to receive the missionaries because they preached. This was followed by a statement of the doctrines that Jesus preached, in which he did not fail to bring out the essence of the gospel. When he sat down, Khamis, the brother of Deacon Tamo, followed with a most impassioned exhortation. The missionaries had thought him a good preacher before, but the place and the circumstances—he was among his own native mountains—seemed to carry him beyond himself. All through this region, the people appeared to render as much honor to him as they would have done to Mar Shimon. The assembly dispersed, and the travellers lay down where they were, to battle with the sand-flies till the welcome dawn lit up the conspicuous summits high above them.
Almost every moment of the next forenoon was filled by personal religious conversation with many who never heard such truths before. In the evening, even more fixed attention was given to another service in the open air, at the village of Boobawa, for the pious Mar Ogen[1] was then living there, and the bright light of his piety had not shone in vain. Several were earnestly inquiring how to be saved. [Footnote 1: Nestorian Biography, p. 267.]
On Thursday, the day after their return to Memikan, Mr. Coan, Priest Dunkha, Khamis, and Deacon John left for Central Koordistan, and Deacon Isaac went to Kochannes. But though the laborers were fewer, the number of visitors continued the same. Next Sabbath, besides two services, and two meetings with the women in Memikan, there was preaching in three other villages. In Chardewar, the home of Priest Dunkha, Miss Fiske found his daughter, who had come with them from Oroomiah, already full of work. She had just dismissed her Sabbath school, and was reading the Bible with her cousin, the village priest, who did all in his power to help her, both in her school through the week, and her meetings with the women. One Sabbath, almost every woman in the place had been present, as was the case also when she was visited by Misses Fiske and Rice, and Sanum said that she could not ask for a better place in which to work for Christ. There was more of real hunger for the truth here than any where else in the mountains.
Leaving Memikan, the travellers removed to Darawe, the village described on page 21. Here they could scarcely get permission to pitch their tent, or procure provision for themselves and horses; yet even in such a place, the manifestation of Christian love was not without fruit, though many bitterly opposed them to the last. The neighboring villages wondered at the missionaries going there at all, and still more at their being able to remain.
At Keyat, the kindness of the people, and pleasant intercourse with them, were all the more grateful for the contrast with what had gone before. Here Miss Fiske met with that kind reception from Mar Shimon, then passing through the place, described on page 159, while the tent literally flowed with milk and honey furnished by the villagers, whom he had charged to take good care of their visitors.
On the following Sabbath, Yonan preached to a congregation of about two hundred, at Sanawar, where forty families of refugees from Saat were spending the summer. When Miss Fiske and Miss Rice visited their camp, they found a number of temporary huts enclosing a circle, where the domestic labors of spinning, weaving, and cooking were actively going on. All the women at once left their work, and welcomed their visitors with every mark of confidence and gladness. Some of them had heard the gospel from the missionaries in Mosul, as they had often spent the winter near there. So they drank in every word with eagerness.
The ladies were delighted with their visit, especially with a widow, who, though unable to read, showed unusual familiarity with the Bible, and, as they hoped, a spiritual acquaintance with its doctrines. When the topic of our fallen nature was mentioned, "Yes," said she, "we were all shapen in iniquity, as David testifies." When asked if she had any hope of being saved from sin, she replied, "I am very far from God, yet my only hope is in the wounded side of Jesus Christ. If penitently I stand beneath the blood dropping from his cross, I hope that my sins, though red like scarlet, may become as white as snow." Her views of the way of salvation were not only clear, but beautifully expressed. It was exceedingly refreshing, in that region where they had expected only darkness, thus to find the rays of light struggling through from their associates in another mission; and it gave a delightful foretaste of the time when the voice of one watchman upon those mountain tops should reach to another, and on all sides the eye behold the trophies of Immanuel. It was with feelings of peculiar interest that they heard, some years after, that this stranger in Sanawar, but, as they fondly hoped, their sister in Christ, held fast her confidence in his grace to the end, and so fell asleep in Jesus.
For a companion picture to the preceding, we turn to the summer of 1852. Mr. Stocking moved out to Gavalan, the native place of Mar Tohanan, early in the season, and both teachers followed, with thirteen of their pupils, about the middle of June. The village lies near the base of a range of mountains, at the northern end of the plain of Oroomiah, forty miles distant from the city. On the east the blue waters of the lake seem to touch the sky, and stretch away to the south in quiet loveliness. Sometimes, when reposing in the gorgeous light of sunset, or reflecting the red rays of the full moon, they remind the beholder of the "sea of glass mingled with fire" revealed to the beloved disciple. The breeze from the lake, in the long summer days, is very grateful, and the evening air from the mountains makes sleep refreshing.
Mar Yohanan gave the school free use of two rooms as long as it remained. In the court yard before them a large tent was pitched, that served for dining room, dormitory, and reception room, or diwan khaneh. An adjoining house afforded a comfortable recitation room. Here the regular routine of the school went on, and while men from the village found their way to Mr. Stocking's at the hour of evening prayer, women also came to the school room at the same hour. At the last meeting of this kind before Miss Fiske returned to the city, nearly forty were present, listening with quiet attention to the words of life. On the Sabbath, the sides of the tent were lifted outward from the bottom, and fastened in a horizontal position, so as to admit the air and exclude the sun. The ground beneath was covered with mats, and formed quite a pleasant chapel. In the forenoon, this was thronged with attentive hearers. The children of the boys' school in the village sat close to their teacher. The members of the girls' school could be distinguished from their playmates by the greater smoothness of their hair, the whiteness of their faces, and general tidiness. Among the old men, the venerable father of the bishop was very conspicuous. The members of the Seminary crowded round their teachers so as to leave more room for others, and still all could not get under the shadow of the wings of the tabernacle. Mr. Stocking preached in the forenoon, and in the afternoon the people came together again as a Sabbath school. Each of the pupils of the Seminary had a class of women or girls, and seemed to learn how to do good faster than ever before. They visited them at their houses during the week; they sought out the absentees; and it was delightful to go round the school and note the interest of both scholar and teacher. If these were zealous in teaching, those were no less so in learning. The classes, after the introductory services, filled every available corner in the rooms, the tent, the front of the house, and even sat on the low mud wall of the court. With the same variety of character, there was greater diversity of lessons than in schools at home. Some studied the Old Testament, and some the New; others were just learning to read, and those who could not read at all were taught the Scriptures orally. One class of Armenians was taught in Turkish.
Matters went on very well for two Sabbaths, but on the third, women and children had vanished. What was the matter? It had been reported that all this labor was only a preparation to transport them to America, and the simple-minded mothers staid away with their children in great trepidation; but visits from house to house, during the week, dispelled their fears, and next Sabbath all were again in their places, and this pleasant labor in Gavalan continued till September.
The teachers of the Seminary did not confine their labors to its inmates; they expended both time and toil for adult women as well as for their daughters, and never felt that they gave them too large a proportion of their labors. At first there was a strong feeling among most of the women that they might not worship God along with deacons and readers; and so they could not be persuaded to attend public preaching. But Miss Fiske found that a few would come to her room at the same hour; so, encouraged by her missionary sisters whose hearts were in the work, but whose family cares prevented their doing it themselves, she visited the women at their houses, to urge them to come in. Then, as her own knowledge of the language was as yet imperfect (this was in 1844), and she wisely judged that listening to a gentleman would sooner prepare them to come in to the regular service, she secured one of the missionary brethren to conduct the meeting. The first day only five attended; but soon she enjoyed the sight of about forty mothers listening to the truth as it is in Jesus. On the third Sabbath, she was struck with the fixed attention of one of them, and, on talking with her alone, found her deeply convinced of sin. She had not before seen one who did not feel perfectly prepared to die; but this one groaned, being burdened, and seemed bowed to the dust with the sense of her unworthiness. When Miss Fiske prayed with her, she repeated each petition in a whisper after her, and rose from her knees covered with perspiration, so intensely was she moved: her life, she said, had been one of rebellion against God; and she knew that no prayers, fasts, or other outward observances, had benefited her, or could procure forgiveness. In this state of mind she was directed to Christ and his righteousness as her only hope; and though for some time little progress was apparent, at length, as she herself expressed it, "I was praying, and the Lord poured peace into my soul." The change in her character was noticed by her neighbors. From being one of the most turbulent and disagreeable of the women in her vicinity, she became noted for her gentleness and general consistency. She has since died, and her last days were full of a sweet trust in her Saviour. She was the first inquirer among Nestorian women.
This meeting was given up as soon as the women found their way to the regular service; but ever since there have been separate meetings for them at other hours.
Until the revival in 1846, those who conducted these meetings had to labor alone, for there were none of the Nestorians to help them. Indeed, Miss Fiske had been in Oroomiah more than two years, before women came much to her for strictly religious conversation, or could be induced to sit down to the study of the Scriptures.
Some of her first efforts to interest them in the Bible were almost amusing in the difficulties encountered, and the manner in which they were overcome.
She would seat herself among them on the earthen floor, and read a verse, then ask questions to see if they understood it. For example: after reading the history of the creation (for she began at the beginning), she asked, "Who was the first man?"Answer. "What do we know? we are women;" which was about equivalent in English to "we are donkeys." The passage was read again, and the question repeated with no better success. Then she told them, Adam was the first man, and made them repeat the name Adam over and over till they remembered it. The next question was, "What does it mean?" Here, too, they could give no answer; not because they did not know, for the word was in common use among them; but they had no idea that they could answer, and so they did not, and were perfectly delighted to find that the first man was calledred earth, because he was made of it. This was enough for one lesson. It set them to thinking. It woke up faculties previously dormant. The machinery was there, perfect in all its parts, but so rusted from disuse, that it required no little skill and patience to make it move at all; but the least movement was a great gain; more was sure to follow. Another lesson would take up Eve (Syriac,Hawa, meaningLife). Miss Fiske would begin by saying, "Is not that a pretty name? and would you not like to know that you had a great-great-grandmother calledLife?Now, that was the name of our first mother—both yours and mine." It was interesting to notice how faces previously stolid would light up with animation after that, if the preacher happened to repeat the name of our first parents, and how one would touch another, whispering with childish joy, "Didn't you hear? He said Adam."
Such were the women who came to the Seminary for instruction; but the teachers also went forth to search out the no less besotted females in the villages; and, as a counterpart to the above, we present an account of labors among the wild women of Ardishai, a village twelve miles south-east from Oroomiah.
When Miss Fiske had been in Oroomiah about one year, Mr. Stocking proposed a visit to Ardishai. So the horses were brought to the gate, one bearing the tent, another the baskets containing Mr. Stocking's children, and a third miscellaneous baggage; besides the saddle horses. The first night, the tent was pitched on one of the threshing floors of Geog Tapa; but as American ladies were a novelty in Ardishai, the party there, in order to secure a little quiet, had to pitch their tent on the flat roof of a house. It was Miss Fiske's first day in a large village, and she became so exhausted by talking with the women, that she can never think of that weary Saturday without a feeling of fatigue. As the village is near the lake, the swarms of mosquitoes allowed them no rest at night; and morning again brought the crowd with its idle curiosity as unsatisfied as the appetite of more diminutive assailants. About nine o'clock, all went to the church, where Mr. Stocking preached, while the women sat in most loving proximity to their strange sisters, handling and commenting on their dresses during the discourse. Mr. Stocking could preach though others talked, and readily raised his voice so as to be heard above the rest. At the close, Priest Abraham, without consulting any one, rose and announced two meetings for the afternoon; one in another church for men, and a second in this for women, who must all come, because the lady from the new world was to preach. So the news flew through the neighboring villages. The good lady called the priest to account for his doings; but he replied, "I knew that they would come if I said that, and yon can preach very well, for your girls told me so." He was greatly disappointed, however, when he found that his notice left him alone to preach to the men, while Mr. Stocking preached to some six hundred women, with half as many children. They were a rude, noisy company, not one of them all caring for the truth; and there was no moment when at least half a dozen voices could not be heard besides the preacher's. When he closed, as many as twenty cried out, "Now let Miss Fiske preach." So he withdrew, and left her to their tender mercies. Her preaching was soon finished. She simply told them, that when she knew their language better, she would come and talk with them, but she could not talk at the same time that they did, for God had given her a very small voice, and her words would no more mingle with theirs than oil and water. They said, "Oil and water never mix; but we will be silent if you will come and preach." Months passed on, and she again visited the village. The women remembered her promise, and hundreds came together; but they did not remember to be silent. As soon as she began, they began; and if she asked them to be quiet, each exhorted her neighbor, at the top of her voice, to be still; and the louder the uproar, of course the louder the reproofs. At length Miss Fiske said, "I cannot say any more, unless you all put your fingers on your mouths." All the fingers went up, and she proceeded: "I have a good story to tell you; but if one takes her finger from her mouth, I cannot tell it." Instantly muzzled voices, all round the church, cried, "Be still, be still, so that we can hear the story!" Some minutes elapsed, and the four hundred women were silent. "Once there was an old woman—I did not know her, nor did my father, and I think my grandfather did not; but he told me—" Here commenced many inquiries about said grandfather; but again the fingers were ordered to their places, and their owners told that they should hear no more about the woman if they talked about the grandfather. "Now, this woman talked in meeting,—I should think she must have been a relative of yours, for ours do not talk in meeting,—and after many reproofs she was forbidden to go to church any more if she continued to do so. She promised very faithfully; but, poor woman, she could not be still; then, as soon as she heard her own voice, she cried out, 'O, I have spoken in meeting. What shall I do? Why, I keep speaking, and I cannot stop.' Now, you are very much like this woman, and as I think you cannot stop, I must." By this time their fingers were pressed closely on their lips, and no one made a reply. Having thus secured silence, Miss Fiske took the New Testament, and read to them of Mary, who, she was sure, never talked in meeting; for if she had, Jesus would not have loved her so much. She talked to them about fifteen minutes more, and prayed with them, and they went away very still and thoughtful.
Miss Fiske gave this account to the writer, with no idea that he would print it. But he thinks—and the reader will doubtless agree with him—that in no other way could he convey so vivid an idea of woman as she was in Persia, or the tact needed to secure a first hearing for the truth. Miss Fiske was often called to deal with just such rude assemblages, and by varied methods she generally succeeded in securing attention. In subsequent visits to Ardishai the number of hearers was never again so large; but they came together from better motives, and, as we shall see, not without the blessing of the Lord. In March, 1850, Miss Rice met nearly three hundred women in the same church, some of them awakened, and a few already hopefully pious.
Having thus glanced at early labors for women in the Seminary and in the villages, let us now turn to another field of usefulness among the relatives of the pupils, who came to visit them in school; and here we are at no loss for a notable illustration.
In the autumn of 1845, Deacon Guwergis, of Tergawer,—and almost every reader was either priest or deacon,—brought his oldest daughter, then about twelve years of age, and begged for her admission to the Seminary. He was known as one of the vilest and most defiantly dissolute of the Nestorians, and Miss Fiske shrunk from receiving the daughter of such a man into her flock. Yet, on the ground that, like her Master, she was sent not to the righteous, but to the lost, she concluded to receive her. Still the father, during his short stay, showed such a spirit of avarice and shameless selfishness,—he even asked for the clothes his daughter had on when she came,—that she rejoiced when he went away.
His home was twenty-five miles off, in the mountains, and she hoped that winter snows would soon shield her from his dreaded visits. Little did she think that his next coming would result in his salvation. In February he again presented himself at her door in his Koordish costume, gun, dagger, and belt of ammunition all complete. He came on Saturday, when many of the pupils were weeping over their sins; and the teacher could not but feel that the wolf had too truly entered the fold. He ridiculed their anxiety for salvation, and opposed the work of grace, in his own reckless way. She tried to guard her charge from his attacks as best she could; but they were too divinely convinced of sin to be much affected by what he said. His own daughter, at length, distressed at his conduct, begged him to go alone with her to pray. (The window on the right of the central door of the Seminary points out the place.) Ho mocked and jeered, but went, confident in his power to cure her superstition. "Do you not think that I too can pray?" And he repeated over his form in ancient Syriac, as a wizard would mutter his incantation. His child then implored mercy for her own soul, and for her perishing father, as a daughter might be expected to do, just awakened to her own guilt and the preciousness of redemption. As he heard the words "Save, O, save my father, going down to destruction," he raised his clinched hand to strike; but, as he said afterwards, "God held me back from it." No entreaties of his daughter could prevail on him to enter the place of prayer again that day.
The native teacher, Murad Khan, then recently converted, took him to his own room, and reasoned with him till late at night. Sabbath morning found him not only fixed in his rebellion, but toiling to prevent others coming to Christ. At noon Miss Fiske went to the room where he was. (The two lower windows on the right of the engraving of the Seminary mark the place.) He sat in the only chair there, and never offered her a seat; so she stood by him, and tried to talk; but he sternly repelled every attempt to speak of Jesus. She then took his hand, and said, "Deacon Guwergis, I see you do not wish me to speak with you, and I promise you that I will never do it again unless you wish it; but pledge me one thing: when we stand together in judgment, and you are on the left hand, as you must be if you go on in your present course, promise me that you will then testify, that on this twenty-second day of February, 1846, you were warned of your danger." He gave no pledge, but a weeping voice said, "Let me pray." The hand was withdrawn, and he passed into the adjoining room, whence soon issued a low voice, that Miss Fiske could hardly yet believe was prayer. The bell rung for meeting, and she sent her precious charge alone, while she staid to watch the man whose previous character and conduct led her to fear that he was only feigning penitence in order to plunder the premises undisturbed. She staid till a voice seemed to say, What doest thou here, Elijah? then went and took her place in the chapel; soon the door opened again very gently, and Deacon Guwergis entered; but how changed! His gun and dagger were laid aside; the folds of his turban had fallen over his forehead; his hands were raised to his face; and the big tears fell in silence; he sank into the nearest seat, and laid his head upon the desk. After Mr. Stoddard had pronounced the blessing, Miss Fiske requested Mr. Stocking to see Deacon Guwergis.
He took him to his study, and there, in bitterness of soul, the recent blasphemer cried out, "O my sins! my sins! they are higher than the mountains of Jeloo." "Yes," said Mr. Stocking, "but if the fires of hell could be out, you would not be troubled—would you?" The strong man now bowed down in his agony, exclaiming, "Sir, even if there were no hell, I could not bear this load of sin. I could not live as I have lived."
That night he could not sleep. In the morning, Miss Fiske begged Mr. Stoddard to see him, and after a short interview he returned, telling her that the dreaded Guwergis was sitting at the feet of Jesus. "My great sins," and "My great Saviour," was all that he could say. He was subdued and humble, and before noon left for his mountain home, saying, as he left, "I must tell my friends and neighbors of sin and of Jesus." Yet he trembled in view of his own weakness, and the temptations that might befall him. Nothing was heard from him for two weeks, when Priest Eshoo was sent to his village, and found him in his own house, telling his friends "of sin and of Jesus." He had erected the family altar, and at that moment was surrounded by a company weeping for their sins. So changed was his whole character, and so earnest were his exhortations, that for a time some looked on him as insane; but the sight of his meekness and forgiving love under despiteful usage amazed them, and gave them an idea of vital piety they never had before. He returned to Oroomiah, bringing with him his wife, another child, and brother, and soon found his way to Miss Fiske's room. As he opened the door, she stood on the opposite side; but the tears were in his eyes, and extending his hand as he approached, he said, "I know you did not believe me; but you will love me—will you not?" And she did love him, and wondered at her own want of faith. In a few days, he was able to tell Mr. Stocking, with holy joy, that two of his brothers were anxiously seeking the way of life. His own growth in grace surprised every one, and his views of salvation by grace were remarkably clear and accurate.
When his daughter returned to school, on the 30th of March, she was accompanied by one of her father's brothers, who seemed to have cast away his own righteousness, and to rely on Christ alone for pardon. As no missionary had conversed with him, Mr. Stocking felt desirous to know how he had been led into the kingdom, and learned that he had promised Deacon Guwergis to spend the Sabbath with one of the native teachers of the Female Seminary. This teacher and others prayed with him, till he threw away his dagger, saying, "I have no more use for this," and in tears cried out, "What shall I do to be saved?" He gave no evidence then of having submitted to Christ, but in his mountain home he seemed to make a full surrender, and became well acquainted with the mercy seat. The native helpers felt that he was moving heavenward faster than themselves. In April, it was found that as many as nine persons in Hakkie, the village of Deacon Guwergis, gave evidence of regeneration, five of them members of his own family; and the whole village listened to the truth which the zealous deacon constantly taught.
He always remembered the school as his spiritual birthplace, and ever loved to pray for it. Once, when rising from his knees in the Male Seminary, where he had been leading in evening devotion, he exclaimed, "O God, forgive me. I forgot to pray for Miss Fiske's school." So he knelt again and prayed for it. And Mr. Stoddard said he did not think there was a smile on a single face, it was done with such manifest simplicity and godly sincerity.
In June, 1846, Miss Fiske visited Hakkie with Mr. and Mrs. Stocking. It was the first time ladies had been in the mountains, and the good deacon was greatly delighted. Labors were then commenced for females there that have been continued ever since. The annexed sketch will give a more vivid idea of the nature of such labors than the most accurate description. One day the party was toiling up a rough ascent, and the deacon, as much at home among the rocks as the wild goats, offered his assistance. The reply was, "We get on very well." At once his eyes filled, and he said, "You once helped me in a worse road; may I not now help you?" And his aid was at once gratefully accepted. At the top of the hill, while the party rested, they heard his voice far off among the clefts of the rocks, pleading for them and their relatives in distant America.
[Illustration: MISSIONARY SCENE IN TEEGAWER.]
After his conversion, the deacon devoted himself to labors for souls, especially in the mountains. One might always see a tear and a smile on his face, and he was ever ready, as at first, to speak "of sin and of Jesus." He traversed the mountains many times on foot, with his Testament and hymn book in his knapsack. In the rugged passes, he would sing, "Rock of Ages, cleft for me," and at the spring by the wayside, "There is a fountain filled with blood" flowed spontaneously from his lips. He warned every man, night and day, with tears, and pointed them to Jesus as their only hope. He rested from his labors March 12th, 1856, and, as his mind wandered in the delirium of that brain fever, he dwelt much on those days when he first learned the way to Christ. He would say, "O, Miss Fiske was right when she pointed out that way;" and then he would shout, "Free grace! free grace!" till he sunk away unconscious. Again he would say, "That blessed Mr. Stocking! O, it was free grace." These were almost his last words. The daughter who prayed with him that first Saturday was by his dying bed, and her voice in prayer was the last earthly sound that fell upon his ear.